Sick Day
by court.von.D
Summary: Some things, even with all the advanced technology in the galaxy, can't be cured. Like the common cold.


**A/N: Random one-shot I decided to put up because I'm stuck out and about at 3.30 in the morning while my sister takes the gazillion fucking quizzes for getting her liquor-serving license. WOO.**

* * *

"I…am going…to die."

Miranda poked her head over the top of the multi-pillow barrier she had set up in the bed of Shepard's cabin. "If you say that one more time, you really will. I'll make sure of it." Her hair stuck up at odd angles from her head and her voice was still thick from not using it. Her and Shepard had both been lying awake for some time, listening contentedly to the quiet thrum of the drive core and the hiss of the aquarium machinery.

Shepard propped herself up on an arm to look over the barrier as well. She sucked in a breath, then seemed to think better of repeating the phrase. Not that it mattered. She jerked her head away and wheezing coughs racked her body. Her shoulders jammed forward and her knees pulled up as she tried to contain it with her elbow.

Miranda's sleepy face softened and she reached over to rub her back. "Maybe you should sit up."

"Just leave me!" Shepard wailed after she had taken a few jagged, watery-sounding breaths. She flopped her head back on her pillow. "Go, soldier!" She flung her hand up.

Miranda giggled and caught her forearm after taking careful note that it wasn't the arm she'd been coughing into. "You're being impossible."

"Because I'm going to—"

"I don't think you can fight very well right now," she said teasingly, grinning as she looked down at her. "Do you really want to say what you were going to?"

"Yeeees," Shepard said, raising an eyebrow. "Because I'm…going to…sit up." She took her arm back and hauled herself into a sitting position, tilting her head back to rest against the headboard. "See?" she finally breathed out. "I'm up." She rolled her head to look at Miranda.

Shepard really had been a pitiful sight for the past few days. Puffy, red-rimmed, watery eyes, pale face. Still no cure for the common cold. Miranda offered her a sympathetic smile.

Shepard stared dismally at the display case full of model ships. "I kicked geth ass, collector ass, and we took down a damn human reaper…but this cold is kicking _my_ ass."

"Yes, well." Miranda leaned over and kissed her temple. "You're not invincible."

"You set me up in quarantine but you kiss my head? This is so unfair."

"I can't exactly get your germs from your head," she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She glanced back. "I don't want whatever it is you have. It sounds terrible."

Shepard nodded heavily. "It feels terrible."

Miranda reached over and squeezed her arm. "I'll go get you something to drink." She stood from the bed and reached for one of Shepard's t-shirts draped over her bedroom desk-chair.

"This is cruel and unusual punishment."

She turned and grinned, pulling on the garment slower than necessary, knowing Shepard would be enjoying the eyeful of her chiseled, trim abdomen.

"Aw…really? Really?"

Miranda crawled back on the bed, gripping the headboard at either side of the commander's head and leaning tantalizingly close to the woman's face. Shepard reached up, running her fingers along her hips and under the hem of the shirt. "Coffee or tea?" she asked.

Shepard groaned and closed her eyes, leaning their foreheads together. "You hate me."

"What was that?" Miranda pulled back, slinging a leg over so she was straddling Shepard.

"I said…I love you, you beautiful woman who never tortures me…?"

"I thought you did." Miranda leaned forward again and kissed her forehead. "Tea it is."

"Wait…wait, I didn't want…I never had a choice, did I?"

Miranda offered her a smug grin as she climbed off the bed again. "No. Thoughtful of me to ask though, right?"

"Exceedingly so."

The ex-Cerberus operative began a hunt for something to cover her legs. A pair of Shepard's sweatpants would do. She pulled them on, not missing the disheartened sigh behind her. "Don't worry, I'll be back," she said on her way to the door.

"I'll be right here." Shepard patted the destroyed pillows that had been creating the wall. "You know. Dying."

"Hm." She turned at the door, smiling over her shoulder. "I won't let that happen again."

"Copy that." She saluted.

/ / /

Miranda raised her eyebrow as she saw that Shepard had moved from her appointed dying spot when she came back. She set the two mugs down on the desk in the small office space before turning to the bathroom door; the hiss of the shower coming through the walls. "I see you didn't die," she said, poking her head in.

Shepard looked over and grinned. "I figured I should probably get ready for…life…at some point today."

"Life, hm?" Miranda crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, letting her eyes appreciate the body in front of her; sweeping over Shepard's curves, the way the muscles in her back flexed as she moved, the subtle tensing and relaxing through her arms.

"So…" Shepard scratched at her head as shampoo ran down her body and the shower floor to the drain. "Do you think the shower could effectively wash away my cooties?"

"Cooties?" Miranda took a few steps forward, stopping just short of climbing in.

"I know. Try not to faint in awe of my scientific knowledge of these things." Shepard raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"I don't believe it is effective at washing away 'cooties.'"

"Weeelllll…it could just wash away any cooties I give you…while you're in here." Shepard reached forward and grabbed her arms, pulling her in.

Miranda let loose an undignified squeal at the sudden movement before she started laughing.

"Oh dear." Shepard planted her hands at either side of Miranda's head on the wall behind her. "I'm afraid I've ruined your outfit, Miss Lawson."

Miranda leaned closer, letting their noses bump and lips brush as she responded. "I suppose you'll have to do something about that, Commander, won't you?"

Shepard pressed their lips together as her hands reached down to find the end of the shirt. Miranda's hands tangled in her hair as their mouths opened against each other, allowing access for hungry tongues. Shepard's fingers finally found the end seam and tugged upward. It was something of an awkward affair to pull the offending garment off, but it slapped wetly to the floor as Shepard's lips moved to her neck. She shuddered, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes. She couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her lips.

She tilted her head down as Shepard slid her tongue lightly along her collar bone, kissing the top of the woman's head as she pressed her lips against Miranda's chest. Her hips, nearly of their own accord, pushed forward against Shepard's.

"These damn pants are getting in the way," Shepard muttered, pulling away breathless. She grinned.

"Of course," Miranda replied thickly. Her arms found their way around Shepard's neck. "And we…we're only thinking of productivity here…aren't we?"

"Always."

/ / /

"I swear…if you got me sick…" Miranda mumbled against the bare skin of Shepard's chest, finger tracing lazily across the woman's hip bones and up her stomach.

Shepard sighed. "Mmhm. You'll kill me. Worth it." Her lips pressed against Miranda's forehead, then dragged down to her lips.

Miranda smiled into the kiss as Shepard's arm tightened around her, and she ran her hand over Shepard's stomach again before letting it ghost over her breast. "I guess," she mumbled against her mouth, pulling one of her legs over the commander's before settling her head on her shoulder.

/ / /

"Oh…my…God."

Shepard poked her head over the pillow barricade. "I love you," she offered, raising her eyebrows.

She was rewarded with another pillow flying out of nowhere to whack her over the head. "As soon as I can move faster without hacking up a lung, I'm going to kill you."

"I guess my shower theory didn't pan out."

Miranda's miserably sick face appeared above the wall; hair tousled, eyes red. It had only taken forty-eight hours for Shepard's cold to clear up...and Miranda's to kick in.

"I'll go get you some tea." Shepard crawled from the bed. "See? And I didn't even torture you with…all _this_." She waved her hands over her sleeping t-shirt and shorts.

Miranda pointed to the door. "Tea. Now."

"Yes ma'am." Shepard ducked her head and hurried to the door.

"Wait…Shepard?"

She pivoted mid-step and nearly stumbled back to the bed. "Yeah?"

Miranda smiled and pulled on her hand, bringing their faces close. "Definitely worth it," she whispered against her ear.

"Heh…" Shepard kissed her neck lightly. "That's what I like to hear."

"And…" Miranda circled her arms around the woman's neck and hugged her close. "I love you too." She could feel Shepard's smile against her skin. "I'm still going to kill you, though."

"Yeeeah…kinda' figured that," she whispered. "I'll go get the tea now."


End file.
